


Stirrings of War

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Affair [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Divorce, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-20 02:22:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7386823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne leaves but Oberyn won't let her get away so easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Fight In Our Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place two weeks after Away from Here (Part 1) and The Unknown (Part 2) of The Affair series.

Two weeks later

“Brienne, listen to me,” Ned Stark said. The frustration on his hard, angular face was in contrast to the patient, nearly hushed tone he was using. “You and Oberyn don't have a prenup. That entitles you to half of your assets and properties. He’s not budging with your offer to take nothing. My advice is to get what you deserve.”

“I don’t want anything from him.” Brienne said stubbornly. “I want this over as soon as possible.”

“Yes. We all do. But not him. He’s threatened to drag this out. He wants a fight.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want a fight.”

Ned sighed but instead of trying to convince her again, reached for the clear pitcher of water and poured her a glass. He pushed it toward her and she sipped, licking the dryness from her lips.

It was two weeks after she had left Oberyn. Time was supposed to dull the first wounds inflected but in their case, they only festered and worse. Oberyn ignored all manner of communication sent by Ned Stark, the lawyer representing Brienne, or by Brienne herself. Three days ago, he sent a brief, terse email to Brienne stating that when he and his lawyers were ready they would meet. Apart from that, neither she nor any of her representatives were to bother him. 

Having been married to him for close to seven years, she was familiar with Oberyn’s style. When pissed, he retreated into himself, not even she had been able to reach him on moments similar to this. The thing to do was to wait it out but Brienne was beginning to have a bad feeling. She got that he was furious, that he was after for her blood and Jaime’s, when he finds out. She couldn’t understand why he’d wish to drag out their divorce proceedings. 

“My sources tell me that Jaime’s teamed with Arthur Dayne,” Ned told her as she finished her water. “I don’t want to worry you even more but that’s a clear sign that Oberyn will be bringing the war. To us.”

“I can’t imagine what he’d want from me to go to war over. I brought nothing to the marriage. I want nothing from the marriage even if by law I’m entitled. I just don’t want to be married to him anymore.”

After leaving Arryn, Stark, Baratheon & Associates, Brienne returned to work. Things were slow in the office today since there were no major events for the next couple of months but she still found work to do and stayed at her desk until her boss, Catelyn, knocked on her door and gently admonished her for staying. “Go home, dear. Tomorrow’s another day.” 

As Brienne got her things, she said, “Your husband’s told me that Oberyn is bracing for a fight.”

“Listen to him, Brienne,” Catelyn advised her. “If he says so then he’s right.”

“I wish I can talk to Oberyn,” Brienne said, wrapping her royal blue scarf around her neck as she slipped on her tan coat. “He won’t see me.”

Catelyn squeezed her hand. “Go home. Rest.”

Home, Brienne thought glumly as she slid inside a cab a short while later. Home at the moment was a bland, furnished apartment so impersonal she was slowly going out of her mind. Between work and the divorce, she couldn’t make the time to find a decent, permanent place.

You do have a place, she reminded herself. Jaime had been wanting her to move in with him but she felt that until she was truly and legally divorced, it was only proper to keep separate addresses. His offer was tempting—being able to sleep with him, wake up with him, have breakfast with him and really be with him. Propriety had a stubborn hold on her will, however, and in the end this was the voice she listened to. It wasn’t like Jaime wasn’t close by either—his place was a fifteen-minute walk and each was often at the other’s. In a way, they were practically living together. 

Brienne did some shopping at the supermarket in her block, wanting to sink in the mindless release of picking out items. She was waiting for her turn to pay when her phone rang. Jaime’s smiling face flashed on the screen.

“Hey, wench,” he greeted when she answered.

“ _Brienne,_ ” she told him, sighing. “That’s my name. When will you get it right?”

“Soon,” he promised, laughing. “Where are you?”

“Buying food.”

“Any dinner plans?”

“I got microwave chicken and frozen vegetables.” 

“Sounds like shit. Finish your shopping. I’m coming over with greasy, delicious food.”

“That’s why I love you.” Gods, it felt good to say it to him in a normal voice.

“Tell me that again when we’re fucking,” he said. As Brienne gasped and flung a hand to hide the heat in her cheeks, he asked, “Are you blushing?”

“No.”

“You are. I can _hear_ you.” He teased. “See you.”

She whipped out her credit card when it was her turn to pay. The bag of her groceries in her arms, she strolled down the street warm and flushed with the anticipation of seeing Jaime.

In her apartment ten minutes later, she started unpacking her purchases. The Brienne from a year ago wouldn’t ever be three feet within pre-packaged food, she thought, grinning as she shoved cartons of microwaveable food in the fridge. It was either organic or gourmet, or even better, organic gourmet food. But there were some stuff from her old life she couldn’t get rid of, like the paraben-free shampoo that gave her thin, straw-blond hair the volume it lacked. Unfortunately, her neighborhood store didn’t sell it so she was still forced to go elsewhere to get her shampoo and soap. 

But these were a few of the things that she’d retained. In deciding to leave Oberyn it immediately became clear to her what she was going to have to give up and was not bothered in any way. The house they lived in, which she had been in love with, had been as good as mausoleum since last year because he was hardly there and his absence punctuated even more the vastness of the place. She only felt at home in it with Jaime but of course, it wasn’t their home. Leaving Oberyn meant discarding a lot of excess and having to streamline her life toward something simpler and more organic. That included going around in clothes that, as Mrs. Tarth-Martell, she would drop off at the Salvation Army without question. Now she yearned for the comfort of old clothes, washed and spun hundreds of times, worn in some many places and fitting her at last like a warm embrace.

She was in her bedroom sliding her arms inside an old chambray shirt when she heard the familiar rattling sounds of keys and the doorknob. Only halfway done buttoning up, she met Jaime at the door, whose emerald eyes raked over her half-dressed state hungrily. The lower half of the shirt had fallen open, revealing the freckles scattered around her stomach. He smirked at the pink spots on her cheeks as he closed the door behind him, waving a huge paper bag at her.

“I don’t know whether to have Chinese first or you,” he said, putting it on the counter and opening his arms. “Come here, wench.”

“Gods, will you stop that already?” Brienne groaned, going to him. She was taller than Jaime by an inch but she could easily rest her chin on his shoulder and his arms didn’t strain to hold her. She kissed him on the neck and tightened her arms around him. He hugged her.

“Hard day?” He asked, setting her apart from him and noticing the shadows under her eyes. His thumb caressed her cheek as if to erase the marks. 

“No different from the last,” she answered, glad that he kept his arm around her waist. “But you’re here. So it’s not as bad anymore.”

“It won’t always be as bad, Brienne,” he assured her, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you. Don't forget."

“Hey, how about that. You got my name right.”

“A mistake. I meant _wench._ ”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

As it had been from the first, to kiss Jaime Lannister was to get devoured. Even when he was gentle there was an urgency behind his kisses that stoked the animal in her to kiss him back with equal fervor. His mouth was so warm, so sure, and he made her feel good all over just from one kiss alone. His hands cupped her face with hands that smelled faintly of musty books and vinyl. She moaned as he coaxed her mouth to open and slid his tongue inside. 

“Jaime,” she whispered heatedly as one hand lowered to squeeze her breast through her shirt then slid under it to caress the bare skin of her back. He grunted as she nipped him playfully and then had her leaning against the counter, pinned between the unyielding slab of marble and wood and his body. His hard cock pressed against her stomach and he sighed against her mouth.

“I don’t know whether to feed or fuck you first,” he chuckled as they continued kissing. His hand lowered to the heat between her thighs. 

“What comes first?” she bit out.

“What do you want to come first?” He retorted suggestively.

She lovingly threaded her fingers through his thick, gold hair as he kissed down her throat. “We can always reheat the food.”

“Hmm. Chinese is just as good when it’s reheated.”

She sucked on the tip of his ear. “I agree.”

He held her fast as she continued tonguing his ear. “Seven hells, wench.”

She slapped him on the chest and he yelped.“Brienne.”

“Bed?”

“Bed.”

She was panting as he removed himself from her so he could take her by hand to the bedroom. Once there, they grabbed and kissed each other as if it had been years rather than seconds since the last. She shoved his leather jacket down his arms as his hands cupped her buttocks through her jeans. Both loathed to break the kiss, they fell on the bed in a tangle of clothes and limbs.

She smiled as he leaned over her, his face tight with want. He kept his eyes on her as he unbuttoned her shirt, flattening a palm on her taut stomach before fingers climbed to her rib cage and circled a soft, puffy, wafer-pink nipple. The light touch had her arching and hissing, and he whispered her name again before lowering his head to claim the swollen tip.

Brienne was squirming and writhing under Jaime as he hungrily suckled from her breasts. He cupped them as if they were full, voluptuous mounds rather than slight curves and buds. Gods, did his lips feel good. Oberyn gave her breasts perfunctory attention at best but Jaime latched on to them as if starved. He hummed and growled as if partaking of a feast.

More tussling happened as they wrestled the clothes off each other, until they were nude after a seemingly long wait. Jaime rolled to his back and drew her over him, giving her silent permission to touch and explore. His body is so beautiful, she thought, awed and a little envious. She placed a tender kiss on the ridge at the center of his chest, her tongue flicking out to taste his golden skin and the rough mat of hairs there. She swore he still smelled of vinyl and musty books here. Smiling, she smoothly climbed on top of him, throwin her legs on either side of his slim hips before lowering her head down his stomach. 

“Hold on, not so fast,” he growled, fingers gently tugging at her short hair and steering her mouth toward his own. Once again, he shoved his tongue in her mouth. He held her close and rolled to the side putting him on top of her this time. 

“Why did you stop me?” She asked, her palm on his chest. His heart was beating fast, like her own. 

“I’m so hard I might come all over your stomach rather than in you. Bu I want to take my time.” Jaime explained, kissing her as he spoke. “You’ll feel better than you thought you possible, I swear it.” This he spoke with smug arrogance.

“Hmm.” Desire clouded her beautiful eyes. “Challenge accepted, Jaime.”

He grinned and set to work.

He measured the long length of her legs with kisses and licks, even a playful bite or two. She was shaking the entire time because of a whole slew of overwhelming emotions coming at her at once. She watched him, biting her lip until it was red and cracked as his lips ghosted around her inner left thigh, his eyes half-closed as if delirious with pleasure. It was easiest, most wonderful thing to give in to the demands of Jaime Lannister’s kisses and hands.

She spread her legs open as his blond head moved higher, until his teeth were gently nipping at the firm, supple skin of her stomach, her hipbones. Then he was nuzzling the thin cluster of blond curls guarding the lips of her cunt, his nose pushing between the folds and finding her sticky and wet. The tip of his nose nudged at her fat, swollen, stiff clitoris and she gasped. Jaime turned his dark emerald eyes briefly at her and whispered, “Relax, wench. We’ve done this before.”

She managed to slap him on the head. “I _know._ It’s just—“

He glared at her then dipped his head back between her thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt his tongue stroking up and down her folds. As she whimpered and grunted, she felt rather than saw him smile as he murmured, “You were saying?”

“Shut up,” she breathed out, moving her hips, desperate for more. “Just shut up.”

“As you command,’ he whispered, every puff of his breath feathering her curls and as gentle as a caress.

Brienne teetered on edge between light and dark, gasps and easy, deep breathing as Jaime kissed and licked her cunt as if it was all he wanted and needed to do. She clenched tightly around his fingers, making him groan that they were going numb but he didn’t retract them. Instead, he kissed her some more, licking her clit, swirling his tongue around. Her thighs clamped around his head as she came with a loud cry, moving frantically against his mouth.

All she could was smile weakly at him and open her arms as he lifted himself over her to capture her mouth. She tasted herself on his tongue as he moved against her. Together, they reached for his cock, painfully hard and rearing eagerly towards her slit. Jaime took her right leg and placed it over his shoulder, gave her a look, then plunged in.

_Bliss._

The angle was unfamiliar, strange, almost, but she wouldn't change anything about, not when he felt so big and _perfect_ inside her. Jaime leaned forward, almost pressing her raised leg back to her chest and the heat between their surging bodies intensified even more. It was so, so, fucking good words escaped her, the mad pace of their hearts and the increasing frequency of their gasps the only things that could best describe what was happening. Looking into her eyes, his jaw set tightly, he grasped her right leg even more tightly and changed the angle of his hips.

Brienne’s eyes widened. “Oh, gods!”

He grinned and hissed, “Jaime.”

“This is—you’re— _oh—oh_ —“

Brienne jerked so sharply she would have dislodged Jaime off her if he hadn’t been pinning her to the bed with the full might of his weight. She rocked against him, head turning left and right, right and left, her eyes closed as she felt herself like a paper boat flung around an ocean caught up in a violent storm. As she sighed and dug her fingernails onto the pillow, Jaime growled, his breath hitting her cheek. He seized her head with his two hands, imploring her silently to keep her eyes on him as they rode out the last waves of their release.

Later, as Jaime kissed her shoulder and collarbones, making no move to slip away from the security of of Brienne’s arms, she murmured, “I love you so much.”

 

Jaime wanted to eat right off the cartons but Brienne gave him a look that told him such barbarity would not be allowed in her bailiwick. Rolling his eyes, but amused rather than annoyed, he helped her get the dishes and utensils out of the cabinets.

Brienne watched him open beer for them as she dumped the last of the Chinese food onto a plate. Jaime was wearing her chambray shirt and his boxers, while she had pulled on another of his plaid shirts (he seemed to have a limitless supply), this one rendered in red. She was bare from the waist up except for the panties she wore and socks at her feet. She smiled as he handed her a bottle of beer, wondering if she and Oberyn had enjoyed intimacy such as this—wearing each other’s clothes, still smelling of fucking, eating greasy food as if it was prepared by a Michelin-rated chef.

Their dinner was an assortment of noodles, dumplings and savoury meats and steamed vegetables. Without having to be asked, Jaime took her plate and put food there first before serving himself. It was clearly something he had always done, and he did it more out of habit than to be polite but it was touching, nevertheless. 

With Jaime, it was always easy to talk about anything and everything. It was a hallmark of their relationship from the beginning.  
Since they sat down to eat, they had talked about the fishing trip he was taking with his brother soon, Margaery’s engagement party, the clueless teenager that had wandered in his store demanding why he didn’t stock Rihanna and the promotion Podrick would be getting next month. Jaime made fun of the drab walls of her apartment and she countered that she didn’t take advice from anyone with corduroy furniture. 

Dumfounded, Jaime demanded, “What the fuck is wrong with corduroy?”

Brienne helped herself to the scallop dumpling on his plate. Chewing, she shook her head pityingly, “There isn’t enough time in the night to tell you the many things wrong with corduroy.”

Jaime smirked and looked pointedly around her apartment. “Oh, and I suppose this is off a page from _Wallspace_?”

“Hey, no snarking on my pad.” 

He reached for her hand and kissed it. “Okay, wench. I’ll shut up. But speaking of furniture, I’ve been thinking about getting new pieces for my place. I’d love your input.”

“Sure. I’ll be happy to help you pick out stuff.”

“I was hoping,” he said, still holding her hand, “that you could help me choose so that whatever will be there won’t be too atrocious for your taste.”

As Brienne frowned, blinking as if she’d just been hit on the head, he grinned and said, “Subtlety has never been my strongest suit. So I’ll ask. Again.” His smiled widened, his dimples all out but it was warm, probably even pleading, betraying a hint of uncertainty. Another kiss was placed on her palm and he got off his chair to drop on one knee.

“Brienne, I’m asking you, again, if you will come live with me.” He laced his fingers through both her hands. “I don’t need a specific date from you. Not yet. But all I want is to know if you are willing. That’s why I want to do some upgrading, make sure that there are fewer things at the place that are eye sores. Now--” suddenly he winced.

“Um, Jaime What's wrong?”

“I didn’t think of this before I did it. Seemed romantic.” He said, sighing as he moved back to his chair, rubbing his knee. He frowned as she bowed her head, giggling, the tips of her ears pink. She looked up, mirth still glowing from her eyes and he couldn’t help but laugh too. Then he was serious again and she cleared her throat, looking at him. 

“Wench, if the answer’s no, it’s okay. Whatever you’re comfortable with. But I want you to know that I want to be with you.” He said. “I know things are difficult now and I don’t want to put more pressure on you.”

“Oh, Jaime. I want to live with you. You have no idea.” Brienne cupped his face tenderly and saw herself reflected in the green pools of his eyes. “It’s just—“ Her voice faltered, unable to find any more words for their situation.

“I know.” He nodded. “I understand.”

“I’d move there now if I could. We’d be there now if things were different.” She pressed her forehead against his, breathing in his scent, comforted by the warmth of his skin. 

“It will get easier.” She felt him smile. “I promise.”

She nodded and pressed her lips to his. He kissed her back. A moan flitted from her lips and their kiss deepened. They held and kissed each other for a while before reluctantly pulling away. They finished their meal in silence, but held each other’s hand and took turns kissing.

They cleared the table some time later, Jaime wiping the table and Brienne disposing of the cartons. 

“I spoke with Ned today,” she said. “He told me that Oberyn’s preparing for a fight. He’s hired Arthur Dayne.”

“Arthur Dayne,” Jaime echoed. 

“You know him?”

“He, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Handled my aunt’s divorce. I told you about her. Cersei was married to Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Try as Brienne did, she still bristled at the mention of that name. Jaime caught it. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No. Why are you apologizing?” She answered quickly. Too quickly.

He put the sponge down and tugged her by the waist to hold her close. He pushed at the collar of her shirt to nibble on her shoulder. “I don’t like bringing her up either. She’s the past.”

“She’s your past. That doesn’t mean you should forget her.” She put a hand on his chest, her touch lingering. “I’m just remembering that. . .do I remember this right? Arthur Dayne managed to get for your. . .aunt. . .more than what she signed in the prenup?”

“To my understanding. What she got remains sealed though but it’s a lot more substantial than what her prenup stipulated. Why do you ask?” He kissed her on the throat and stepped back. His eyes narrowed at her frown. “What is it?” 

“Oberyn and I don’t have a prenup.”

“And by law you are entitled to half.”

“I want nothing, just the divorce.” 

“Then why is Oberyn making things difficult?” Jaime wondered aloud. He was aware that Oberyn refused to communicate with either Brienne or Ned.

“The real question is, he knows I won’t contest or try to get anything from him, so why get somebody like Arthur Dayne?”


	2. Your Enemy Is My Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One week after Chapter One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but much happens! Tell me what you think.

Jaime slept best in his bed, alone. This held true for many years until his blond, spectacularly tall, blue-eyed wench came along. With her, he learned that he could sleep in any bed, be it in a secluded cottage miles and miles outside the city, his couch, the bed she had shared with her husband, and now, the bed that came with the apartment she was renting.

Awake, Brienne was formidable, at times reminding him of the Warrior. Yet there were instances too, and they weren’t rare, not at all, when she seemed the Maiden made flesh. It was her eyes. Guileless, the clearest blue. They were her true beauty—the only beauty. Though they stood out from her harsh, coarse features she tempered with only the lightest touch of makeup, he couldn’t imagine those eyes on any other face. As wrong as they looked, they also belonged only with her. 

He watched her sleep, gazing at the tumble of her chin-length bob. Her hair was thin, each strand too fine and brittle. It was blond, a pale, almost white blond that turned lightened even more under the sun that had crept in the room. She had freckles everywhere, from her hairline down to her toes. He grinned at his favorite patch of freckles on her right shoulder, from where the blanket had slipped. A light tug freed the rest of her upper body—the surprising delicateness of her collarbones, her broad shoulders, the swollen, pink buds of her nipples. He moved until they were skin-to-skin, rib-to-rib, the slow, determined press of his body against her slowly waking her. When her beautiful eyes opened, followed by the shy, hesitant smile of her too-red, oft-swollen, plump lips, there was only one thing he wanted to do. 

He kissed her.

They fucked with the familiarity and languidness of lovers that had been together for years rather than months. They followed a repertoire but every slide of skin, every press of a mouth, the clutch of a hand, fingers, felt new and surprising. He flattened her on the bed with his body, pushing his tongue in her pliant mouth as his fingers fluttered past the thicket of blond curls between her thighs, then slick, very slick and warm flesh. His cock jabbed at her thigh, demanding to be let in where his fingers languished. 

He brought her close to the edge but did not give her the release her body was demanding. Not yet. He wanted her to come with his cock rutting hard inside her, for her to know who was fucking her and why she was coming. When he obeyed the screams of his body at last, he gritted his teeth, not wanting this to end so soon. He never wanted it to end with Brienne. Only with her. But she moved and pushed against him, burying her cries in his mouth, her long legs tight around his waist. He buried a rough laugh in her shoulder, his eyes gleaming as she cried out, stiffening around him, the walls of her cunt gripping his cock as if to keep it inside her for good. Seven hells, if only that was possible. Three more strokes of his cock and he growled in her ear, spilling in her. She clung to him, whispering his name.

“Fuck, wench,” he whispered, still panting. He heaved himself up but didn’t get off her, though her legs slipped from his waist. He kissed her hard on the mouth, shoving his tongue deep inside so she would remember him in her for the rest of the day. He gripped her head in his huge hands. “Your cunt has spoiled me.” Then he pulled away and smiled at her lecherously. “Hey there.”

Her face cheeks were the colour of beets. Blinking up at him, she whispered back, “Hi.”

“I like waking up with you.”

“That wasn’t waking up.” And how adorable, she blushed even more. Her hand on his chest, she raised her eyes to him and said “If I’m not mistaken, that was fucking.”

“Was it? I could have sworn we were still sleeping,” he joked, kissing her on the forehead. With great reluctance, he rolled off her but dragged her with him so was half-lying on his chest. Oof, the wench was heavy and strong but he’d fuck her again if only his cock would recover right away. She was not what he had expected ever but each surprise he’d discovered drove him crazy with want. More and more with Brienne, that was what he wanted.

It was crazy, this bottomless craving. Throw in the circumstances that led to their relationship and it was maximum insanity   
That he’d plunged into it with his head the clearest it had ever been, eyes wide open, said a lot for the kind of state he was in. 

How did Tyrion describe his taste in women? _Unavailable._

“I wish I’ll always wake up with you.” Brienne was earnest.

Jaime held her close. Her warm breath feathered his neck and she put her hand on his chest. Unavailable? Before, yes. But now, now he was with a woman who wanted and needed him in every way he did with her. 

Most important of all, she also loved him.

 

“There’s a folk duo using kitchen wares and utensils for instruments performing tonight,” Jaime was telling Brienne as they had breakfast. She tilted her head, looking at him with a mix of both amusement and suspicion and he smiled. “I’m actually pretty serious. They’re real. And they’re quite good.”

“They’re not entirely original,” she said thoughtfully as she poured more milk in her cereal. “But I’ve not seen anyone perform using a spatula. Can I bring people from work?”

“This the kind of scene Catelyn Stark will be into?” Jaime asked, digging in his poached eggs.

“I was thinking more of Pod. Poor kid works himself ragged. Although it’s not really cool to go anywhere after work with your boss. It’s the equivalent of going to some event with your teacher.”

“Hey, the more the merrier. These guys need exposure.”

“What are they called?”

“Night’s Watch.”

They held hands when they left the building. Jaime called a cab for her. As Brienne opened the door, she turned to him and said, almost shyly, “I love you.”

 _Seven hells, he was going to float up like a balloon._ He cupped her cheek and kissed her. “I love you too. I’ll see you tonight.”

He stood there watching as the cab roared off and turned around the corner. Then he walked to Casterly Company.

He went to his favorite pastry shop and bought a box of sugar donuts and three cups of coffee. It was something he could have somebody from his staff do but he liked doing it. When he stood at the door of the shop, Pia and Josmyn Peckledon, who called himself Peck, were in the process of finishing opening the store. They greeted him enthusiastically as he let himself in, donuts, coffee and all.  
Casterly Company was divided into two sections, the bookstore and the record store. The place only got crammed during acoustic nights or literary events but there was enough traffic throughout the morning to ensure sales and two inquiries to Jaime about acquiring certain rare editions. It was a busy morning though Jaime managed to help himself to a donut and the coffee. 

For lunch, the shop would close. Pia went to the small break room to study—she was in law school. Peck left to pick up lunch. 

The lull in the shop gave Jaime the time to call Brienne. By some silent agreement, they checked on each other during lunch. They could talk about anything and everything, it was crazy. He teased her and she hissed at him to stop it, called her wench just to rile her up some more. 

Peck returned with their lunch. Perfect timing because Jaime’s stomach was growling. He went to the door to slip the sign to CLOSED when he spied a graceful figure exiting a Town Car. His heart stopped as he recognized the golden blond hair atop slim shoulders.   
As if sensing his eyes on her, she turned around. Her smile was sly though beautiful, everything about her appearance was beautiful. Her hair pulled back in a sleek twist, baring the graceful curve of her ivory throat. The emerald coat over a black dress, fitting close to her body to show off her curves. She approached the eyes, her green eyes on him, round hips swaying seductively. 

Jaime took a deep breath. _I hope I’m right about this,_ he thought as he opened the door.

“I called days ago,” he said without preamble.

“I was out of town. Didn’t get your message until last night.” She gave him a puzzled look because he wouldn’t budge from the door, effectively barring her. “Can I come in?”

“I wanted to ask you something. I didn’t ask to see you.”

“You might as well. I admit to curiosity with you wanting information regarding my divorce lawyer,” Cersei Lannister replied smoothly. “A mere phone conversation wouldn’t do and,” she added, her voice dropping to a low, husky note that still made him clench. Smirking at her obvious effect on him, her hand coasted over his chest before touching his cheek, “I have missed you, Jaime. Didn’t you miss me?” 

 

Brienne and Podrick strode down the front steps of the museum. “So I’ll see you and your girlfriend later?” She asked him as they reached the bottom.

“Yeah. Personally, I think it’s a riot but hey, if they’re something to see as you say, then I trust you, Brienne,” Podrick told her. “Uh, can I get you a cab?”

It was the middle of fall. Too chilly to walk but the night was clear and awashed with stars. Brienne raise the collar of her coat and shook her head. “Thanks, but I’d like to walk for a while. I don’t like it when I sit too long and that’s all I’ve done all day.”

“Not at all. You’re the hardest worker I know. Bye!” 

Brienne bade him goodbye then started to walk down the street. 

It was a beautiful night—when had she last look up in the sky with amazement? Maybe she could convince Jaime to go for a walk after the show. He had sent her a cryptic message earlier: Something’s up. Tell you at home. She hoped it wasn’t anything grim or unpleasant. Their current situation was hardly ideal, they didn’t need another curveball.

As Brienne approached the corner, still deep in thought, a sleek, black car pulled up. She was chewing her lip, frowning, realizing that Jaime had not answered her message at all after he sent that text when she felt as if she was being watched. Curious, she looked up and her heels skidded to a halt. Her hand flew to her heart instinctively.

“You scared me.” Were the first words out of her mouth.

“I apologize.” Oberyn was standing next to the black car. He gave her a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “How have you been, Brienne?”

“I’m expected somewhere.” She answered, eyes darting to the people walking around them. Seeing this, he stepped forward.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

 _You have. You still do._ “What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?”

“Now?”

He nodded. She sighed. “I really have to be somewhere. I can’t be late.”

“You’re leaving me.” Oberyn walked toward her until he could clasp her by the side of her neck, his fingers easily sliding between her collar and skin. She shivered. “I’ve missed you, baby.” His voice was gentle, as if they were in bed.

She flushed and shook her head.“Oberyn, I can’t—“

“I won’t keep you. Not as long as I'd like, anyway. I thought you wanted to talk to me.” There was a mild reproach in his tone.

Her eyes dropped to her boots. “I do, but—“

“Then please.” He moved to stand beside her, looping his arm through her elbow as he held out his other arm toward the car. “Come with me.”


	3. Venom

_What have I done?_

Brienne started taking deep, long breaths, bringing the sharp chill of the car’s airconditioning to her lungs then down to her belly. Cold sweat was filmed on her forehead. Her coat felt as tight and as comfortable as a straitjacket. Wide-eyed, she looked at Oberyn, who lounged on the other end of their seat.

“I’ve missed you,” he told her simply as the car wove through the early evening traffic. “When I was away, I’d think of you at home, preparing dinner, or going to bed with a book. Nothing really special but it comforted me. Now that you’re not at home and I’m away, nothing ties me to it anymore. I’m lost.” He looked at her.

Brienne looked at her lap then focused on the moving scene outside her window. The dark tint of the window concealed them and also served as a mirror. She could see Oberyn staring at her. She squirmed way until her shoulder bumped against the door.

“You told me you don’t love me anymore. Where’s the hate, Brienne?”

“Where are we going?”

“I thought we could just drive around. I can drop you off wherever you want.”

Oh, fuck no. Brienne knew that Oberyn knew where she lived, she was sure he’d found out from the moment she signed the lease. But she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of dropping her off at the address in his file. He was a sneaky bastard, cloaking it all under pretty words and concern that couldn’t reach her anymore. 

“You clearly said in the email we will be meeting with you and your lawyers. Not like this.”

“Maybe I wanted to see my wife for myself. I miss her.”

“You miss what I used to be. I haven’t been that person for a long time, Oberyn.” Brienne looked at him then. “If you’ve been around more, if you really meant all those promises you made, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“So that’s why you don’t love me anymore.” 

“I hated you at first. That’s gone. All that’s left is nothing. I feel nothing for you.” Brienne, seeing a subway station ahead, said, “I’m getting off there. We can’t meet like this.”

To her relief, Oberyn instructed the driver to stop as she asked. Brienne’s breath picked up. She had been holding it, she realized, shakily fumbling for the knob and latch that unlocked the door. But when she stepped out of the car, Oberyn did too and walked around it. She backed away as he approached, shaking her head.

“I refuse to believe you feel nothing.” He declared.

“I don’t want anything from you. Isn’t the enough of an indication of what I no longer feel?” She shot back.

“That hurts, you know.”

“Oh, fuck. You can’t be pulling the hurt card on me You are not.”

Oberyn glared at her. “What do you expect? For me to be happy that you’re leaving, that you cheated on me? That you let me fuck you when you were still dripping with another man’s seed?” He hissed the last question, nearly spitting at her but they were beginning to attract curious onlookers. There was no other way to interpret the tight expression on his handsome face, the stiff set of his shoulders. 

Brienne, sick of avoiding him, stood her ground and looked at him right in the eye. She felt sick in the heart, sick to her stomach, she was sweating and flushed as if fevered but she was going to stand her ground.

“I am not going to apologize. What I did was wrong but only because I broke that one vow to you. You’ve broken plenty to me.”

“That vow you made to me was before the gods.”

“The gods be damned.” She snapped, startling him.

He shook his head. “This is not you.”

“Whoever I was in your head is not me anymore,” she cried out desperately. “I’m done. I want out. If you want to talk to then do it through my lawyer. The name is—“

“I fucking know who he is. You got the honourable Ned Stark.” He mocked her. “You say damn the gods and you pick the only lawyer in town who still honours them.”

“And you got Arthur Dayne. What do you intend to swindle from me, my bank account? Take it, then. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Yes, you do.” He said softly, looking smug. He said it as if savouring candy.

“What do you think you have that I could possibly want?” She demanded.

“Your freedom.” 

Brienne flinched. 

Oberyn smirked at her visible reaction. “I guess there’s still some of the old you in there, baby. There’s absolutely no thrill to fucking Jaime Lannister when you’re still somebody else’s wife, is there? For other women, yes. The cloak-and-dagger business gets the juices flowing. But not you. You’d only fuck with a clean conscience, won’t you?”

Now Brienne was horrified. _He knows about Jaime._

“It’s interesting. You don’t feel any guilt being a married woman and fucking another man besides your husband but when your husband shoves his cock in you, you feel like you’ve betrayed this other man.”

“That’s basically how the last time we were together went,” Brienne retorted, refusing to be intimidated. “You forced yourself on me.”

“You wanted it. You were wet.”

“I was still wet from another man.” Her cheeks reddened at the crude turn of their conversation. She looked away. “If that is all, I really have to go. _Jaime_ is waiting for me.” There was no point to hiding anymore.

As she walked away, Oberyn called her. She looked at him, feeling drained all of a sudden.

“I can give you what you want provided you agree to my terms.” He smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets. “The way I see it, both of us will be satisfied with either choice. Wouldn’t you want to know? Come here. It’s not fit for anyone’s ears but yours and mine, baby.” 

 

The Night’s Watch were almost done with their first set when Brienne finally arrived. Jaime didn’t have to scan the crowd for her. She was the blondest, lightest head in the room. Also the tallest. And her vividly sapphire eyes stood out big and worried from her too-pale face.   
Jaime met her halfway through the crowd, taking a moment to bask in the sight of her. Brienne was often in suits and dresses and lounged in their apartments in either his shirts or hers. Tonight she was wearing a black leather jacket, a sequined black top, slim-fitting dark jeans and ballet flats. She looked stylish yet approachable at the same time, the effect of her look that of separate pieces thrown together at the last minute with little to zero thought yet achieving a strange coherence. 

“Hey, wench,” he greeted her, pulling her in his arms. She took a deep breath and put her arms around his shoulders. She didn’t smell of perfume, just soap and water. He buried his nose in her neck. “You took your time.”

“I’m sorry.” Brienne said, pulling away from him. 

He looked at her. He wasn’t just imagining things. She looked as if her world had just crashed. Too damn worried. He steered her away from the show and toward his office at the back. It didn’t help that she didn’t pull him back and ask where he was taking her. 

As he closed the door behind them, she quickly sank on his faded, worn overstuffed loveseat, the sofa looking smaller with her on it. He stood by the door, watching her, wondering.

He decided to cheer her up with what he hoped was good news.

“I asked around about Arthur Dayne,” he began, walking toward her so they may sit together. “He is representing Oberyn. And he is a shark of the sharpest kind. But—“

Brienne looked alarmed. “You asked around?”

He winced and uttered the one name he loathed even thinking when she was around.

“Cersei.”

“Cersei,” she echoed disbelievingly. “You saw Cersei?”

“I was expecting a return call. She’s the one who came to see me,” he said defensively.

Brienne made a pitiful sound and buried her face in her large hands. Jaime sighed.

“Brienne, she and I are over. I told her—“

She gasped and dropped her hands, glaring at him accusingly. “Oh my gods, you were talking about. . .you were talking about. . .” She breathed harshly before spitting out the word. “ _You._ The two of you.”

“I had to make it clear to her—“

“Did you? How many times?” It was clear that wasn’t the question she was asking. Jaime got annoyed.

“I didn’t fuck her. I’ve not wanted to fuck her for years.”

“But she wanted to fuck you!”

“So what? We didn’t! You’re completely missing the point—“

“No, I’m not. Because Oberyn came to see me today. Right when your Cersei—“

“Fucking seven hells, Brienne—“

“Your _Aunt_ Cersei saw you.” Brienne growled. 

“If there’s anyone who should be mad it’s me. Your fuck of a husband assaulted you and you saw him? _What is wrong with you?_ ”

Brienne’s cheeks reddened. “He came to see me. He was. . . waiting. Outside my work.”

Jaime wanted to kick a hole through the wall. “Bloody hell.”

“It gets worse from there.”

He stilled. _Did he—did they--_? His heart suddenly a cold stone in his chest, he said slowly, carefully, “Brienne, did he—“

_I swear to the gods I'm going to gouge that Oberyn Martell's eyeballs out of their sockets and crush his head to the ground._

She shook her head. “No. No. At least not that. But it’s just as fucked up.”

“What do you mean?”

Brienne started to tremble. He reached for her but she scrambled away, practically running to put his desk between them. Jaime stood up, confused by her behavior. She had never once shied away from him.“He said. . .he said. . .he’d agree to the divorce provided I go away with him this weekend. A `goodbye fuck’, he said, that’s what he wanted,” she blurted out, looking green for a minute. “If I don’t then he’ll not only take me to court but also release information regarding your. . .your. . .” She hiccupped. “ _Regarding your relationship._ ”

Jaime suddenly wondered at the wisdom of heavy piece of furniture between them. He could fucking throw it against the wall given his temper. _Fuck that Martell. Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

Brienne’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Oberyn has information about you and Cersei. And he’ll release it to the press if I don’t agree to go away with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all hate Oberyn.


	4. Fissures

Long after the acoustic performance ended at Casterly Company, Jaime and Brienne remained in his office. She sat huddled on the loveseat again, glancing up occasionally at him. He had been walking back and forth for a long time, stopping only briefly when she told him she was getting seasick watching him. She switched her stare between her knees and her shoes.

The painful beating of her heart had eased to its steady rhythm but she remained tensed—both of them did. 

What have I done? It was question she had been asking herself for hours. That question did not thunder in her mind the first time she and Jaime kissed, nor when they first fucked. Never, when they were together. What was it that Oberyn said? _“You don’t feel any guilt being a married woman and fucking another man besides your husband but when your husband shoves his cock in you, you feel like you’ve betrayed this other man.”_

She brought her knuckles to her mouth to stamp down the helpless cry threatening to escape. _I should never have gone with him. I should not have kissed Jaime. Should not have fucked Jaime. Her teeth bit down hard on the flesh. I should not love him._

Just thinking of it wrecked her.

Might as well get it over and done with.

“Jaime.” Her voice was hoarse. She swallowed. “Jaime,” she said more louder, getting him to look at her.

Jaime leaned against the edge of the desk. The light was harsh in his office and right now he looked gray and drawn. There was a deadness in his emerald eyes.

“I think—I think we should. . .we need a break.”

He looked at her then nodded. Her heart broke then. He’s already regretting us.

“You’re right. Let’s sleep, think it over.” He said, running a hand through his golden hair and straightening up. He offered his hand. “Where do you want to sleep tonight? Yours or mine?”

Confused, she said, “I meant. . .that until the divorce is done—“

He paled. Realizing what she had yet to say, he declared, “No.”

“Jaime, hear me out—“

“No.” He insisted. When Brienne shot him a mutinous look, he returned with one of his own, and more ferocious. He glared at her as he got down on one knee, his arms surrounding her hips. She looked away, flushing but still furious. 

“Look at me. Brienne.”

“Won’t you listen to me?” She demanded. “I’ve never told Oberyn who you are but he knows. I won’t put it past him if he’s watching or bugged the place. We can’t be together until he and I are divorced.”

The tight expression on Jaime’s face returned, his powerful jaw set and determined. “Now will you listen to me?”

She nodded.

“What you said is exactly what he wants us to do. We’re not giving that fuck anything he wants.”

“It’s the right thing to do!” She exclaimed.

“No. It’s not.”

“Aren’t you worried with what he knows?”

“As far as I’m concerned, he knows nothing. He’s just planting seeds of doubt.” Jaime raised a finger to his lips and she shot him a questioning look. Suddenly, he cupped her face and whispered in her ear, “If he’s listening, we have to get out of here. Now tell me what about Cersei.”

“What?” She demanded. Jaime tightened his grip on her face and snapped, still whispering, “Say `what about Cersei?’”

“What about Cersei?” She hissed.

“Louder.”

“What about Cersei?” She growled.

“Cersei is my aunt.” Jaime replied, in his normal voice, smoothly straightening up and taking her with him. “I don’t know what the fuck your husband is insinuating but I’m tired. I want to go home and I want to fuck you.”

Brienne’s eyes nearly popped from her eye sockets. “Jaime, this is hardly the time—“

He suddenly kissed her. She should push him away but her hands fisted his shirt and pulled him closer, mashing her tongue against his with both angry and passion. Then he ripped his mouth from hers and whispered, “What if he’s listening, wench?”

She froze. Jaime nodded and gently tucked her hair behind her ears, his touch gentle and lingering. She swallowed as he kissed her lightly on the lips and reluctantly moved away. As he kissed her hand, he whispered, “Say you want to fuck me.”

Despite things, Brienne was hot all over. “Fuck me, Jaime.”

He grinned and sucked the tip of her ring finger. “Say it like you mean it.”

She shot him a warning look but her face flushed even more. “F-Fuck me, Jaime.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and whispered, "You can do better than that."

"You said to tell you that!" She hissed.

"Brienne."

"I can't believe you."

"You've talked a lot dirtier," he challenged her quietly.

Blood roaring in her ears, she grunted, "Fuck me until I can't walk, Jaime. I want your cock--"

Bloody Seven, she was only supposed to pretend but his cock certainly didn't think so. He grabbed her and kissed her, quieting her. Her moan had his cock ready to leap out of his pants, damn it. They breathed harshly against each other's lips, clung desperately. Jaime indulged in a hand cupping her hip, squeezing the firm mound and she whispered his name again, cruelly rubbing against him. A weak laugh issued from his lips and he buried his lips in her shoulder. They held each other until their frantic breathing slowed down. "I love you," she whispered. 

He took her hand in his and together, they left his office. He shut off the lights, switched off the airconditioning. Pia and Peck had already cleaned up. Jaime stood by the door and nodded at Brienne. She went to him and they held hands once again.

It was cold in the street so they remained close to each other. She breathed in Jaime’s scent, glad that he wouldn’t let her go, not too long and not too far. They took he stairs to his apartment, his hand still warm and comforting around hers. 

“If you’re right, we can’t be talking here freely,” Jaime said, still whispering as he brought her to the kitchen. “I’ll pack a bag then we’ll swing by your place for your stuff.” He peered at her and sighed. “You look like you could use a drink, wench.”

“Brienne,” she snapped and he laughed. As much as she would like to be annoyed, she smiled at him. She hugged him. “Thank you, Jaime,” she whispered, kissing him on the cheek. They held each other for a moment before letting go. 

“I can get myself a beer. Go get what you need,” she told Jaime.

 

Brienne was expecting modest accommodations but Jaime sprang a surprise by taking her to The Dragon King, the most luxurious hotel in the city. He ignored her curious glances as he presented his credit card and got them checked in. In the elevator ride, she wanted to remind him about this unnecessary, impulsive spending until she remembered that such arguments would only fall on death ears. 

And she also learned that there were other battles to fight. This was not one of them—not when they involved this giant tub, the most fragrant bath oils and soaps surrounding them, and certainly not when a golden, emerald-eyed god was in it massaging her feet. 

The bubbles had long receded, only soapy water and the occasional patch of them. She watched, blushing as Jaime pressed a kiss to the arch of her foot before setting it back down under the water. He looked at her then, stacking his arms on the tub as he leaned on the edge and cast her a look that was too smug and made her annoyed and buttery at the same time. She bit her lip as she felt the hot gaze of his emerald eyes rake her. 

“I give you my word that we’ll see through this shit together, wench.” He said, drawing her eyes to him. “Everything will be alright.”

“How? There’s no way out of it.” She rubbed soap up and down her toned arms. Her movements were slow and thoughtful. She was unaware at the growing tension below Jaime's waist.

“Yes, there is. You didn’t agree, did you?” He uttered.

“Of course not,” she said vehemently, shooting him a glare. 

“Didn’t sign anything, refused him?”

She nudged at him hard with her big toe. He chuckled and grasped her foot, stopping her. He moved toward her, but not so close as to feel her breath on his cheeks. 

“He’s so different,” Brienne confessed. “Never in a million years did I think that. . .he could. . .that he’d be this way.”

“People change,” he said simply. He bit his lip, as if contemplating something before he let out a quick breath. Then he met her gaze and continued, “I thought Cersei was all I wanted.”

Brienne looked away, unable to stomach that he’d mention her name when they were this happy. Her thought flitted clearly in her face. She’s never going to be able to lie, Jaime thought. At that, he loved her even more. 

“We can’t keep doing all these maneuvers and acrobats to avoid mentioning her name, wench. She’s never had any power over us.”

“She might not but Oberyn knows.”

“She never has,” Jaime persisted. “And we don’t know what he knows, Brienne. Did he tell you?”

She shook her head, remembering all too clearly the words. _“Leave me for that man and I’ll give you a war, Brienne. But know who you’re fighting for first. Ask him. Ask him about that aunt of his, Cersei Lannister. Then tell me if you still want a fight. If you do, I’ll make sure the world knows exactly what they are.”_

“He didn’t tell me exactly what he knows but I didn’t confirm anything. Jaime, I’m afraid.”

He smiled at her gently, sadly. “Me too.”

She hugged her knees, suddenly cold.

“I love you,” he told her. It was clear she was not to question him.

His eyes told her he really did. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he told her fiercely. 

Before she knew what was happening, tears formed in her eyes. “I’m still sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

He closed the final inches between them until eh could reach for her and take her desolate face in his hands. “Neither do you, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cersei is Jaime's aunt in this Modern AU. Sorry to say this, but she will be appearing.  
> Brienne's lawyer is Ned Stark. Oberyn's is Arthur Dayne. Dornishmen stick together!  
> I'm not a lawyer so don't look to this story for any accurate legal proceedings.  
> \----  
> Wallspace is inspired by Wallpaper magazine.


End file.
